family

Every day, as we drive past the quiet streets,
I scan the pavements, the hollow kerbs,
hoping to glimpse a flicker of fur,
a little shadow waiting by the roadside.
My head knows I won’t find you there,
but my heart still holds on to hope.

Every evening, stepping from the bus,
I turn my gaze to the ginnel’s glow,
orange streetlights casting ghosts on the stones,
hoping to see a little shadow bounding from the dark.
My head knows I won’t find you there,
but my heart still holds on to hope.

Mary,
a name that still lingers on the breeze,
like the soft rustle of autumn leaves
falling where the birds fly free.

I didn’t know you long,
but in that time,
you became more than a friend—
more than a passing figure
in a fleeting chapter of my life.
You became a grandmother,
and I loved you as such.

Under God's eyes they were bound as one,
Bell and Beaupré,
his beloved Dorothie,
a shining light in his heart.

So inspired by love was he
that he made her a window,
sunlight illuminating the stained glass,
colours dancing across stone halls.

The window, a display of their love,
their names joined in eternal embrace,
a love as fierce
as the fever that took him.

She is a soldier,
a warrior in the quiet moments,
fighting battles not of her choosing,
but of necessity,
holding the weight of the world
on her shoulders,
so that we, her daughters,
might walk a little lighter.

A mother and a father,
she wears both roles with quiet grace,
never asking for applause,
never seeking praise,
she simply does.

She is the artist,
painting our lives with love,
with lessons learned through fire
and scars borne with pride,
forging the strength of ten
in the heart of one.

Mary, Queen of Bucks, with beauty sharp as fate,
A painted smile, a poisoned crown, she’d wait.
From velvet lies to whispered tongues of power,
Her hand would grasp, and kingdoms would devour.

A tempest in a lace-edged gown, so sweet,
She danced upon the backs of men’s defeat.
Her lover’s eyes—how they bent to her whim,
Yet in her mirror, shadows grew so grim.

Upon the bridge where swords met steel and fate,
In Finea’s mist, where river waters weep,
There stood a man, a prince in name and soul,
Myles O’Reilly, Slasher of the foe.

Descended from the kings of old Breifne,
A chieftain’s blood ran strong within his veins,
With Ireland’s pride aflame within his heart,
He dared to stand, though England pressed him low.

They called him but a man, yet giants fell,
The Scottish beast cut down with but one stroke.
His blade, a flash of vengeance in the dusk,
An iron whisper sung in rebel hands.

Did you forget about me?
Because the phone never rings,
No words, no care, no space for me,
Just because I cut my strings.

Did you forget about me?
Love? Oh, that’s just a line,
Because if you’re poor, or different.
Then you’re ignored and left behind.

Did you forget about me
‘Cause in your eyes, I’m a mess?
A misfit in your perfect show,
Yes, I’m a failure, I confess.

Did you forget about me?
When you cut me, no second chance.
Is it because I dared to criticise,
And wouldn’t take part in your dance?

In my dream, I fell through the floor,
Whispers of a father I can’t ignore.
His hands were warm, but his eyes were cold,
Behind that mask, a truth untold.

I reached for him, but he slipped away,
A shadow where his love should stay.
A laugh that shattered, sharp and cruel,
The mask of love, a twisted fool.

Am I alive, or just a ghost he made?
I can’t recall the promises he betrayed.
All that’s left is the hollow air,
But the mask? Oh, it lingers there.

O Little Robin, who follows me close,
I know your soul, it warms my heart.
You are here with me once again,
It was never goodbye, only see you soon.
And here you are with your new-found wings.
Hello, my cheeky monkey.

These are poems for children and poems about children and their mothers, fathers, grandmother, grandfathers and extended families. 

The Desk
by Michael R. Burch

for Jeremy

There is a child I used to know
who sat, perhaps, at this same desk
where you sit now, and made a mess
of things sometimes.I wonder how
he learned at all...